


Sexology

by imaginedestiel



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Doctor/Patient, Dream Sex, Future Technology, Michael has LLI, Minor Injuries, Multi, Porn With Plot, Tentacles, Vampires, michael is a monster fucker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17713115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedestiel/pseuds/imaginedestiel
Summary: Michael wants a better sex life. An experimental technology created by neurologist Dr. Mahone can give it to him.





	1. Chapter 1

“Why have you come here today, Mr. Scofield?”

Michael looked up from the steaming coffee cup on the man’s desk that had stolen his attention. Dr. Mahone sat in front of him in a swivel chair, comfy but not an expensive brand, blue eyes glued to him. Looking closer, Michael noticed the faint tinge of blood in them. A restless night, then. Why hadn’t he slept? What was keeping Dr. Mahone up at night?

“Mr. Scofield?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry. What was your question?”

Gently, Dr. Mahone repeated, “Why are you here?”

Michael observed his surroundings with a quick glance. Traditional office space. Scratch that. _Slightly_ more welcoming than a traditional office space—the walls were a deep green, relaxed by sunlight streaming in from the window, blinds left halfway open. High bookshelf lining the wall behind Dr. Mahone. More than one chair available for clients. Or should he say _patients_?

“I’m having some… issues. With my sex life.”

Dr. Mahone held his gaze. “There’s no shame here, Mr. Scofield. It’s important you understand that.”

Michael didn’t let his guard down, but he could tell the doctor meant what he said. The vapors rising off his coffee started to dissipate without him taking a sip since Michael had entered the room. Dr. Mahone leaned forward.

“Tell me more about these issues you’ve been having.”

Michael wet his lips. “You saw my file.”

“Yes.”

“Then you already know.”

“I’d like to hear it from your perspective,” Dr. Mahone said, smiling just slightly.

Michael forced himself to stop fidgeting with his fingers. “I have low latent inhibition. You know what that is?”

Dr. Mahone nodded.

“When I’m with someone, it doesn’t matter if I’ve just met them or if it’s a long-term relationship…” Michael thought of the last breakup.

“Go on,” the doctor prompted.

Michael took a breath. “I get distracted. During sex. By the sheets, by the ceiling fan, by her freckles, by his fingernails. And when I’ve become familiar with someone, it’s almost worse. I get overwhelmed thinking about what they want. What will make them feel best. It makes me feel…” He trailed off, unsure.

“It’s alright,” Dr. Mahone said softly.

Michael met his eyes. “Used. Through no fault of my partner’s.”

“I see,” said Dr. Mahone. He had a notepad and pen in front of him on the desk, untouched. Michael decided he didn’t need them, his mind taking notes for him. His eyes went to the doctor’s lips as he said, “Tell me what you want from this experience.”

“I want to be normal,” Michael replied, quickly correcting himself before Dr. Mahone could say anything, “I want to have normal sex. I know my LLI won’t go away.”

“By ‘normal,’ you mean sex free from trivial distractions.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve done some research on this facility?” Dr. Mahone asked.

Michael nodded. “Your website said you specialize in simulated experiences.”

“Simulated, yes. You can have any experience you desire.”

“And it’s… programmed?” Michael asked.

Dr. Mahone smiled and said, “In a way. The computer reads your innermost thoughts and wants, then presents you with several experience options customized to you and you alone. Ultimately, what you get is your choice.”

“Does it follow an algorithm?”

“To an extent. If you choose to visit more than once, the computer will learn what you like and offer that as an option, but it won’t be your only option.”

Michael glanced at Dr. Mahone’s clasped hands, considering. “Will it solve my problem?”

“I can’t guarantee that result.” Dr. Mahone shifted, resting a hand on his knee. Michael’s eyes followed. “But I am optimistic. Think of it like sex therapy. You act out fantasies while the computer blocks out unnecessary stimuli. It may make you more comfortable with real partners. Allow you to let go of your racing thoughts.”

Michael exhaled slowly. “If I want the simulation to stop?”

“Your safe word will automatically stop the computer.”

“Will someone be watching me?”

“No,” Dr. Mahone said firmly.

“What if the computer… glitches?”

“It won’t,” the doctor assured him, “but I must remind you, this is experimental. You would be one of the first to test it out.”

Michael’s heart beat hard in his chest. With furrowed brows, he asked, “Can this hurt me?”

Dr. Mahone took his time with his answer. “The simulation is false, but your mind will experience it as if it were real. Ideally, you’ll feel pleasure. The program is in your control.”

“So, if I wanted a realistic experience…”

“Pain is possible.”

Michael rubbed his lip. “Okay.”

“Okay?” There was excitement in Dr. Mahone’s voice, but his expression was quickly tempered.

“I’ll try it.”

Dr. Mahone reached into his desk and pulled out a form for Michael to sign. “Read it carefully,” he said. “You are consenting to an experimental treatment. But you are not the experiment, and you can stop treatment at any time. It’s my wish for this to help you.”

Michael read it and found the terms to be the same as what the doctor had already explained. Nothing fishy in the fine lines, at least. He took the pen offered to him and signed his name.

“Would you like to start today?” Dr. Mahone asked.

Michael felt his gut clench. “No.”

Dr. Mahone didn’t argue, but simply replied, “Call this number when you’d like to schedule an appointment.” He handed him a business card. _Alex Mahone M.D. Neurologist._ Michael glanced at his diploma hanging on the wall. A doctorate from the state’s best university. It was real.

“Oh, and would you fill this out for next time?” He took a packet from one of his desk drawers and handed it to Michael. “Try to think of it like homework. It will help me set the parameters of the first simulation.”

Michael looked at the paper in front of him. It was a long list of different sex acts, each with a column of boxes where he could check “Yes” or “No.” Michael felt his cheeks color as he scanned the questions. _Have you ever…?_

“Don’t worry about completing it now,” Dr. Mahone said. “I understand this can all be a little uncomfortable.”

“Right,” Michael said.

“Remember, no shame. Call when you’re ready, or if you have more questions. I’ll walk you through everything.”

Michael stood and shook the hand he offered. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Thank _you_ , Mr. Scofield. Until next time.” Dr. Mahone smiled in a way that eased Michael’s tension and he gave a small one back before he left the office.

* * *

Michael spent two days worrying about his commitment before finally giving in. He knew nothing was forcing him to make an appointment except his own desire for human connection—the contract he’d signed stated he could back out at any time. Its purpose was to prevent a lawsuit in case of the unexpected. Perhaps that vague _unexpected_ was what Michael feared, but he was willing to brave it for some sense of normalcy.

He texted Lincoln where he was going just in case, and to expect a call from him in a few hours.

He’d painstakingly relived the entirety of his sex life as he checked off a dozen or so yesses and noes on Dr. Mahone’s homework packet. The simulation, he hoped, would leave out all the awkward and anxiety. It didn’t help that he was supposed to fall asleep naturally for it all to work.

“Sleep here? Now?” Michael asked.

“Have you ever dreamt about sex, Mr. Scofield?”

Michael crossed his arms and turned around to view the room Dr. Mahone had led him to. It was spotless, like the best hotel he’d ever stayed in, not even dust on the lamps or nightstands. There was a large bed and an attached bathroom complete with a shower and bathtub that he could use afterwards, if he liked. “I think everyone does,” he murmured.

“This will be like that,” Dr. Mahone explained, “but I don’t want to put you under with drugs. You’d have more difficulty coming out of the simulation that way.”

Michael walked around the room. “No cameras,” he stated.

“None,” Dr. Mahone swore.

“What if something goes wrong?”

“You can contact me by pressing the buzzer on your nightstand. Try it.”

Michael padded over to the button and pushed it. It buzzed at the same time Dr. Mahone’s ear piece dinged. He tapped it and said, “Mr. Scofield, is everything alright?”

His voice came through a speaker in the room. Michael smiled and released the button. “It seems like you’ve thought of everything.”

Dr. Mahone took a step closer to him. “There is something else we need to address.”

Michael swallowed. “Yes?”

“The simulation is designed so that it occurs during the REM stage of sleep. The body is motionless while the mind is very active. I believe your file said you had some experience with sleep paralysis?”

Michael frowned. “Yes.”

“If you find yourself awake and unable to hit the buzzer, you’ll be able to contact me by pinching your fingers together as long as you wear these.” Dr. Mahone pulled a pair of cybernetic gloves from the nightstand drawer. “You may also wear this suit if you’d like to avoid, well, stains, in your normal clothes.” He laid a plain white jumpsuit on the bed. “Any more questions for me before we begin?”

Michael traced his finger around the buzzer on his nightstand. “How long will this last?”

“Depends on how long it takes you to enter the REM cycle. But for the sake of your first simulation, I’ll have the computer end it after one session.”

“I would need time to go again,” Michael said, half to himself.

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Mahone replied, grinning for a moment, “That’s the beauty of this project. You aren’t limited by anything except your own expectations.”

Michael smiled. “How poetic of you.”

Dr. Mahone shrugged. “What can I say? I’m passionate about sex.”

Michael gave a little laugh, relaxing somewhat. “To be honest, I thought your business card would say _sexologist_.”

Dr. Mahone adjusted the lapels on his suit. “You know, somehow a degree in neurology just felt more professional.”

Michael grinned and took a breath. “Let’s go.”

A nurse wheeled in a tray of electrodes as Dr. Mahone advised Michael to change into the jumpsuit. Soon Michael was lying on the bed as Nurse Judd, a short and kind-looking woman, attached sticky squares on wires to his head and chest, then connected them to a small black box. The “computer,” fit with Dr. Mahone’s algorithms and Michael’s personal information. The nurse pushed the rolling tray back out of the room and shut the door behind her. Dr. Mahone leaned over Michael by the side of the bed as he made a few final adjustments.

“Now, Mr. Scofield—”

“Michael,” he replied.

Dr. Mahone smiled. “Michael, we’ll be monitoring and recording your brain activity and heartbeat. Is that alright?”

“Yes.”

“We won’t see what you’re seeing.”

“Good to know.”

“Try your gloves.”

Michael squeezed his left hand into a fist, then his right. Each time Dr. Mahone’s earpiece dinged.

“Perfect. Remember your safe word?”

“Panic.”

“Good. Now you just need to sleep. I’ll leave you be.”

Michael sat up, taking his electrodes with him. “Wait—”

Dr. Mahone turned around. “Yes?”

Suddenly Michael felt like a freak. “Nothing,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

Michael nodded. Dr. Mahone held his gaze a moment longer and left the room. A minute passed of Michael contemplating his situation. _I just need to breathe._

Slowly, Michael laid back down. The room dimmed around him, including the light from the window, which must have been simulated, too. In truth, he was in a room deep in the Cloud Nine facility. _Just breathe._

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. What if he got trapped here? That wouldn’t happen. Lincoln knew where he was. He better hurry up and sleep or else his brother would think something terrible happened to him without a phone call at 7pm on the dot.

Michael took a deep breath and laid still for a few minutes. Then he got under the covers, despite the comfortable temperature of the room, and tried again. He checked his watch. An hour had already passed. Michael pressed the buzzer box on his nightstand.

“Mr. Scofield?”

“I can’t sleep,” Michael called out, feeling stupid.

“Hm. What would help?”

“A book, maybe. Nonfiction.” Fiction was fun, but often too predictable. Michael knew the doctor had a wide selection of books in his office.

“I’ll send someone with a few choices for you.”

“Thank you,” Michael said. He let go of the buzzer and urged himself to relax. End the ceaseless critique of himself. After a minute, Nurse Judd knocked on his door and brought a stack of nonfiction for him to read, some historical, some scientific, but at least 5 books out of the stack were on crime and justice. Dr. Mahone’s not-so-secret hobby, Michael thought with a smile. He thanked the nurse and picked a book on the Sicilian mafia.

Sleep found him when he’d read 60 pages and the book had slipped from his hands. It sat open on his chest as time ticked by. Then…

_Indoors or Outdoors?_

Michael was dreaming and he knew it. His brain fished for the right word. Lucid.

_Indoors or Outdoors?_

Michael raised his hand to choose. It was as if the words were floating in front of him. Beyond them, the facility room he’d been sleeping in looked blurry. He chose _Indoors_.

_Home, Apartment, Hotel?_

Michael currently lived in a fancy loft. Hotels had an atmosphere he liked but were full of unfamiliar little details. What did _Home_ look like for him anyway? Michael chose _Home._

The background beyond his choices grew into focus. His childhood home where Mom and Dad once lived together. The same house he lived in after Dad left.

_One Partner or Two?_

Michael felt himself smile. _Let’s not get too eager,_ he thought. _One Partner_.

 _Who?_ the computer simply asked.

Michael faltered. Dare he choose one of his old partners? Someone he’d never been with? A celebrity? A character? Was anything off limits?

 _Partner Selected,_ the computer chimed in a soft voice.

Michael wasn’t sure who he’d “selected” as the glowing words before him faded and left him in his empty old house.

“Michael.”

He spun around and saw Lincoln standing next to him in the family room. He sighed at the familiar face.

“They’re waiting for you,” Lincoln said, smiling and clapping a hand to his back as he led him to the basement staircase. “You’re gonna be great. It’s about time you became one of the brothers.”

Michael furrowed his brows. Lincoln gave him a little push. Michael gripped the railing and descended into the dark. In the center of the room were five men gathered in a circle, each with candles in their hands. Michael immediately thought _cult._

“Michael, come here,” one said, his body obscured in the darkness. Michael turned around and looked back at the staircase. He could leave, if he wanted. He decided to take a leap of faith and join the circle. The man who spoke put his arm around him, the candle illuminating his face. It was John Abruzzi, a man he’d seen in the news recently. Not a man, a mobster. A murderer. He remembered his steely eyes, the idea of all that power residing in one man. Michael chided himself, wondering how he could be attracted to such a criminal.

Abruzzi shook him slightly, interrupting his thoughts. He leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Ready, _amore mio_?”

Just like that, a shiver ran down Michael’s spine. This could be fun. Michael nodded and spared a glance for the other men. He still couldn’t see their faces.

“Hold out your hand,” Abruzzi instructed. Michael did. Abruzzi held his wrist and sliced a blade through his palm.

Michael gave a cry, pain flooding his senses as warm blood flowed from his hand. Dr. Mahone’s words echoed in his head. _Pain is possible._

Abruzzi closed Michael’s fingers into a fist and held them over a painting of a saint. Michael watched his blood drip onto her face like tears from her eyes. Then Abruzzi used a candle to light the portrait on fire, ashes floating around them for a moment before he dropped the saint into a trash bin, where the flames grew taller and brighter.

“Michael Scofield, do you swear your devotion to the Abruzzi family?” he asked.

“I do,” Michael said, smiling slightly.

“Do you swear your life to me?” he asked, voice low.

“I do,” Michael repeated. It felt like a wedding vow.

“Then you are now and forever a member of our family. Congratulations, Michael.”

The other men each embraced him and kissed his cheek. John Abruzzi put his arm around Michael’s waist and demanded, “Leave us.”

Michael’s heart beat double time as he watched them climb the stairs. Abruzzi’s hand rubbed his side. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, drawing him close as he kissed his ear. It felt so real, down to the warmth in his cheeks. Michael decided to test the fantasy.

“What did I do to deserve this?” he asked.

Abruzzi chuckled. “You saved me from a prison sentence. My little lawyer. My consigliere. What would I have done without you?” He smoothed a hand over Michael’s head.

“Are we… Have we ever…?” Michael started to ask, looking around before his eyes fell on a mattress in the corner of the basement.

“This will be our first. As long as you’re willing, _bello_.”

Michael broke from him suddenly, laughing. His first time, his real first time, had been in this house. He’d been too young, and it was too fast, and his mom nearly caught him and he hated to think about it, it embarrassed him so. Abruzzi grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.

“Are you laughing at me?” he growled. His grip around Michael’s wrists tightened.

“No, no, um, John? Let go, please.”

He only relaxed his grip and leaned in close. “You are mine, Michael. Now and forever.”

“Yes,” Michael whispered.

“You can forget anyone else who’s ever bedded you. I am the only one you’ll ever be with. The only one who will ever touch you like this.” He palmed Michael through his dress pants. Michael tossed his head back and moaned, surprised by how good it felt. How real.

Abruzzi cupped a hand to his cheek and kissed him hard. “Got it?”

Michael nodded eagerly. Abruzzi had him on the mattress in the next second.

“Tonight’s all about you,” he murmured, shedding his suit jacket, “So tell me how you like it.”

Michael wondered if this was a clever way for the computer to ask him more questions. “What do you suggest?” he teased.

Abruzzi grinned and unbuckled Michael’s belt. “I suggest…” He pulled off Michael’s pants with a flourish, fingers gripping his boxers before easing those off too, “You let me have you right now.”

Michael blinked and they were both completely naked, Abruzzi positioned between his legs and ready to go. “Wait!” Michael yelled.

“Yes?”

“Fingers! Fingers first,” Michael pleaded.

“Are you sure, _bello_? We can skip that. See?” Abruzzi sucked on his finger and circled Michael’s rim with it, finding him already loose. “Someone knew what he’d be getting tonight.”

Michael sighed at the sensation. The computer knew what he wanted before he did. Fast and hard without that initial shock of pain…

“Fuck me,” Michael whispered, “Now.”

Abruzzi slid into him all at once, drawing a loud groan from Michael. He could feel the stretch, the sheer size of him, a warm body holding him tight—it seemed ridiculous, but he’d missed this. Michael wrapped his arms around him as Abruzzi rocked into him.

“John?” he managed to squeak out.

Abruzzi grunted, slowing his pace.

“Would you kill for me?” Michael asked.

Abruzzi smiled and snapped his hips forward. Michael whimpered.

“I’d kill a hundred men for you, _amore_. So would your brothers.”

Michael gasped as Abruzzi drove into him hard. “You’d go to prison. You’d give up your freedom for me.”

“Yes,” he said solemnly.

“Why?” Michael asked. It didn’t make sense.

Abruzzi covered Michael’s mouth and demanded, “Stop talking.”

Michael pushed his hand away easily. “But I have questions.”

Abruzzi pinched Michael’s chin and showed him the dark room, candles glowing in the center. “I held this ceremony for you, Michael. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Michael frowned. Just like all his other partners, he was letting this one down. And he wasn’t even real!

Abruzzi stroked his cheek. “No, _bello_ , don’t fret. I’ll make it better.” He kissed Michael’s lips. “Turn over.”

Michael did. At least he could hide his face that way. Abruzzi ran a hand through his hair and slowly kissed down his spine. Shivers again.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

Michael closed his eyes and concentrated on his wandering lips. He had to stop thinking so much. “Mhm.”

Abruzzi put two fingers in him and rubbed exactly where he wanted. Michael keened.

“And that?”

Pleasure better than anything, any _thought_ —“Don’t stop!”

Abruzzi chuckled and rubbed harder. Michael clenched his hands into fists, fingernails digging into the cut Abruzzi had made earlier. Abruzzi took his injured hand and held it tight.

“This blood is my blood,” he murmured.

“More, more,” Michael urged.

“You belong to me.”

“Please, more.”

Another finger. Michael groaned.

“You think you can come like this?”

“Yes, please…”

“What about me?” he teased.

That huge cock was just waiting for him. “Give it to me!”

Abruzzi gave him what he wanted. Michael was so close he could scream. Abruzzi held him down and fucked him into the mattress.

Michael squeezed his hand and moaned, finally, _finally_ getting his relief. Abruzzi groaned and collapsed on top of him.

Michael gave a laugh. Abruzzi kissed the side of his face and said, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” but his voice sounded far away.

Michael woke up winded. He panted as he gazed around the room, then at both his palms. He was still wearing Dr. Mahone’s gloves. He carefully peeled them off to find no injuries on either hand. Michael glanced at the book he’d been reading before falling asleep. He raised his eyebrows.

“Wow.” He must have made the connection between the Sicilian mafia and local mobster John Abruzzi without realizing it. It wasn’t a fantasy he’d indulged in before.

 _Innermost thoughts and wants_ , Dr. Mahone had said.

Michael shook his head and remembered to remove the electrodes from his body before leaving the bed to shower. He’d managed to come _and_ sweat profusely from all that dreaming, so the shower was welcome. Afterwards, he dressed in his tan suit and went to his nightstand, fingers hovering over the buzzer box. What was he supposed to say? Thanks, Doc, your interactive porno worked? He pressed the button.

“Mr. Scofield, have you finished your session?” It was one of the other doctors.

Michael cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Dr. Mahone will be with you shortly.” The transmission cut out.

Michael, not knowing what else to do, made the bed and sat on it while he waited. There was a quick tap on the door. “Come in,” Michael called.

Dr. Mahone entered wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses, a clipboard in his hand. He brought a chair over from the desk in the corner so he could sit in front of Michael.

“Nice to see you again,” he said politely.

Michael checked his watch. Maybe a half hour had passed since he’d fallen asleep. “You, too,” he said.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” the doctor asked.

Michael held the side of the bed with both hands and said, “No, I just have a call to make.”

“Can you stay and answer some questions?” Dr. Mahone asked, smiling prettily. “It would really help with my research.”

Michael gestured to his clipboard. Dr. Mahone clicked his pen on and read the first question.

“How did you find this experience?”

Michael’s nerves got to him and he smiled. “Successful?”

“Ah,” the doctor said, scribbling it down. “No distractions?”

“Actually…” Michael sighed. “I still overthought things. But each time I did—”

“The simulation brought you back to the scene at hand?”

Michael furrowed his brows. “Yes. Did you program that specifically for me?”

Dr. Mahone nodded.

Michael wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.”

“Of course. And how did you find the setting? Was it too dark?”

“I thought you couldn’t see what I saw,” Michael replied.

“I can’t. But I made sure whatever location you chose, you wouldn’t have much to look at other than your partner.”

“And my partner,” Michael started.

Dr. Mahone looked up from his notes and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Not satisfactory?”

“Oh, no, that was—that was fine,” Michael blurted, cheeks warming. “He was someone I’d never met before.”

“Interesting.” He took his time writing that down. Michael took a breath.

“The way he moved and talked—Was that all my imagination?”

Dr. Mahone met his eyes. “At the moment, yes. My colleagues and I are currently discussing the implications of plugging real data into the system—people’s Facebook profiles, for instance. I don’t think it’s ethical.”

Michael shook his head. Though being able to experience a fantasy this convincing might warrant debate as well.

“He seemed realistic to you? Your partner?” Dr. Mahone asked.

“Yes,” Michael said. “This book didn’t help.” He picked the novel off the nightstand.

“Oh?”

Michael rubbed his face. “I think it influenced my thoughts. Or maybe I’ve seen _The Godfather_ too many times.”

Dr. Mahone laughed. “It sounds like you have a very active imagination. Your LLI probably helped to make the man more three-dimensional.”

Michael smiled for a moment. At least there were a few perks to his condition.

“Do you have any more comments you’d like to make?” Dr. Mahone asked. “Questions? Concerns?”

“Actually…” Michael bit his lip.

Dr. Mahone smiled. “I’ve heard it all. Hit me.”

Michael glanced away from him at the floor lamp in the corner of the room, now at full brightness once more. “If I can think it, I can dream it?”

“That’s right.”

He was going to regret this. “Have you seen _The Shape of Water_?”

Dr. Mahone tried to hide a grin. “Yes, I have. You’d like a creature from the black lagoon?”

Michael blushed red. “Not necessarily that, but…”

“Something inhuman.”

He nodded. Then added, “Just once, you know. Not every time.”

Dr. Mahone smiled as he wrote it in his notes. “I’ll make a few adjustments for you.”

Michael sat there, feeling like he’d just told a stranger a dirty secret. “Am I weird?” he asked.

Dr. Mahone clicked his pen off and stood to collect his stack of nonfiction. “No. Plenty of people relate to monsters. Being attracted to them is just an extension of that.”

Michael remembered his books on criminality. “Are you attracted to monsters?”

Dr. Mahone turned to look at him swiftly, lips parted. Michael’s heart stopped.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—”

Dr. Mahone collected himself. “I suppose it’s only fair you get to ask me questions, too.” He shifted his books to one hand and opened the door with the other. Michael started to follow him out of the room.

“Get the lights?”

Michael hit the light switches and walked beside him through a long stark white corridor.

“I’m attracted to intelligence,” Dr. Mahone said, “So if, say, Hannibal Lecter were real? Then I’d be attracted to a monster.”

“No,” Michael breathed.

“Yes, but to be clear, cannibalism does not attract me in the slightest.”

Michael laughed. “Thanks for sharing.”

Dr. Mahone smiled back at him. He pointed to the right and said, “This way.” They turned the corner. Then, “Will you be making another appointment with us soon?”

Without looking too excited, Michael replied, “Yes. Does next Saturday work?”

“Anytime. We’re not booked up yet,” said Dr. Mahone. “If you’re happy with your treatments, I’d encourage you to recommend the facility to your friends.”

Michael nodded as Dr. Mahone held the door open for him to leave. “Thanks again,” he said.

“My pleasure.”

Michael shook his hand and dialed Lincoln’s number on the way to his car.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Michael, how have you been?”

Michael smiled at Dr. Mahone in his white lab coat. “Good, and you?”

Dr. Mahone sipped his coffee as they strode down the mazelike corridors of Cloud Nine. “Working. A lot. Trying to get all the kinks out.”

Michael raised his brows. Dr. Mahone laughed.

“Not those kinds of kinks,” he clarified.

Michael couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.  He grinned. “Kidding.”

“Ah. Well,” he tilted his head as he spoke, “I suppose kinks were involved. Specifically, yours.”

Michael warmed, but tried to play it cool. “I didn’t break the system, did I?”

Dr. Mahone opened the door to his room and replied, “No, I just had to get a little creative. If you do encounter a monster under your bed tonight—”

Michael snickered.

“You’ll tell me if it felt real?”

“I will.”

Dr. Mahone smiled. Michael noticed a few lines under his eyes. He must have been staying up late still. The doctor turned away from him and said, “Your jumpsuit is here. There’s no rush, just let me know when you’re ready to get hooked up.”

Michael thanked him and changed in the bathroom. He put his clothes on a hanger and joined Dr. Mahone and a nurse in the main room. He took deep breaths as the electrodes were attached.

“Read any good books lately?” Dr. Mahone teased.

“Not funny,” Michael said.

“Your smile begs to differ.”

Michael relented and let his teeth show. “It’s been a long week. I should sleep fine.”

“We have milk and cookies now, if you’d like,” the nurse said.

“Really?”

“Really,” said Dr. Mahone. “Would you like some?”

Michael bit his lip. “Maybe next time.”

“Just say when. Sleep tight, Michael.”

Michael watched the two leave before closing his eyes and drifting off.

_Indoors or Outdoors?_

So this was the same. Michael tapped _Outdoors_ , feeling a little adventurous.

_Garden, Woods, Beach?_

At least he hadn’t stuck himself in Mordor by watching _Lord of the Rings_ last night. He chose _Woods._

_Human or Inhuman?_

Michael grinned. _Inhuman._

Suddenly he was running in the dead of night, a cold wind on his face as he tore through the trees. He stopped and looked around for what he was running from. Someone tackled him to the ground, damp and soft with leaves.

“Caught you!”

An eerie moonlight glinted off the man’s face. Michael’s brows pinched.

“Dr. Mahone?” he asked.

“That’s not my name,” he answered, smile baring sharp white fangs. Michael scrambled away. The doctor caught his ankle and yanked him back. “But you can call me whatever you’d like.”

Michael didn’t know what to think. Was this some kind of joke? Yes, he thought the doctor was handsome. Maybe he was more attracted to him than he thought. But for him to show up here? In his own creation? It felt wrong. Dr. Mahone—the vampire—reached for the buttons of the Victorian vest Michael was wearing.

“Stop,” Michael told him. The vampire, his doctor, pinned him down with superhuman strength.

“Don’t you want to be mine?”

Michael struggled against his hold, fear building in his chest. He was still in control, wasn’t he? He could pick a different partner. “Sara,” he said, “I want Sara.”

 _Partner Selected_ sang a voice from far off.

It was still Mahone.

“Don’t you want to live forever?” he whispered, a clawed hand circling around his throat.

“Indoors!” Michael called out. “I changed my mind!”

He blinked and he was inside an old castle, Mahone still tearing at his clothes. Michael fought and kicked and scratched but Mahone held him like a straitjacket, arms wrapped around him from behind. His breath tickled his skin as he leaned into his shoulder, taking a deep breath. Michael couldn’t remember his safe word.

“You smell so good… You’ll taste even better.”

Mahone opened his jaw and sunk inch-long fangs into Michael’s neck. Michael jerked away, pain searing into his mind as blood dribbled from his veins. He slipped one hand free and scratched at Mahone desperately. It didn’t stop him. Michael grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked hard, but it only tore the wound at his neck. Tears beaded in his eyes. Mahone made hungry wet sounds as he drank from him, holding him tight no matter how hard he struggled. Michael was fading. His breath grew fainter and fainter, heart trembling inside his chest.

 _Panic_ , he remembered suddenly. “Panic!”

He woke with three nurses trying to hold him down. He pulled an arm free only for Dr. Mahone to grab his hand and say, “Michael, Michael—you’re awake. You’re awake now.”

Michael wrenched himself free and yelled, “Get away from me!” He glared at the nurses. “All of you!”

Dr. Mahone held out his hands, pleading with him. “Something went wrong, Michael. But you’re safe now. Let us help you—”

“Go to hell,” Michael spat, tearing electrodes from his forehead. Who cares if he broke them. “I’m leaving right now—” He tried to get out of bed but fell to his knees. That pain in his neck hadn’t gone away. He touched the spot where two fangs had punctured and tore him. His fingers came away red. He gave a shout.

Dr. Mahone knelt beside him and explained, “You were hurting yourself when we came in. Your heart rate—”

“Shut up!”

The doctor did. He stood and gestured for a nurse to patch up Michael. A dark-haired man cleaned the scratches and taped a bandage in place as Michael tried to catch his breath.

“Find out what happened,” Dr. Mahone told Nurse Bergeron. “I’ll be in my office.” He left after a quick apology to Michael.

When the nurses finally pulled from him what happened, Michael drove straight to Lincoln's apartment and told him everything.

"I thought you were going to a sleep clinic," Lincoln said, hugging Michael to his chest, "for your insomnia."

"I lied. I'm sorry."

Lincoln cupped his hands to his cheeks. "I could've told you it was dangerous."

"I know. That's why I didn't tell you."

Lincoln sighed. "Are you alright?"

Michael took a moment to assess himself and nodded. "It wasn't real."

"You want to stay here tonight?"

Michael smiled. It'd be like sleeping in his big brother's room after a bad nightmare. "Yes."

Lincoln broke from him and said, "I'll go make the bed."

Michael went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. His phone rang.

Dr. Mahone calling.

Michael dismissed it. The phone rang again immediately after. Michael gritted his teeth and answered.

"You better have an explanation for what you did to me."

"Michael, I'm so sorry—"

"I didn't sign up to be terrified!"

"Please, listen. It was never my intention to harm you in any way."

"You know  _you_  were the monster in my dream, right? Was that one of the 'adjustments' you made?"

"I would never—"

"And I couldn't pick anyone else?"

"I'll find out what went wrong. I will."

"You mean you don't know?" Michael demanded.

Lincoln came back into the room, concern on his face. Michael held up his finger, stopping him from saying anything.

"I have an idea," Dr. Mahone replied gently. "The science behind this technology is very complicated. The tiniest of changes could have set it off."

Michael rubbed his forehead. "What is it?"

Dr. Mahone took a breath. "I'm at fault. When I added nonhuman characters as an option, I didn't take into account that you might have a reasonable fear of the same beings you're attracted to."

"And?" Michael asked.

"And the simulation played off your fear instead of your arousal." A pause. "Are you alright, Michael?"

"Fine," he replied. "Listen, thank you for trying, but I'll test my luck in the real world."

"You're not coming back?" Dr. Mahone asked.

"No," Michael said sharply.

Another long pause. "I'm very sorry. I'm going to fix the program, if you ever decide to join us again."

"I won't."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Scofield." He hung up.

Michael set his phone on the counter and ran his fingers through his hair.

"That the sex doctor?" Lincoln asked.

Michael scrubbed a hand across his face. "Yup."

Lincoln put a hand on his shoulder as Michael faced him. "Hungry?"

"Very."

* * *

Michael stopped for coffee after work, a long night of editing architectural blueprints ahead of him. Before he'd even ordered his espresso, he spotted a familiar face in the café.

Dr. Mahone wore a wrinkled blazer over a black t-shirt, his hair a mess. He sat hunched over three open composition notebooks, eyes wide as he pored over his scribbles.

"Alex," the barista called out.

Dr. Mahone jerked upright and went to retrieve his coffee. Michael beat him to the counter.

"That's—"

Michael turned around, coffee cup in hand.

"Michael. Hi," Dr. Mahone squeaked. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "Hi." He gestured to his drink. "Thank you."

Michael held onto the paper cup as he walked with the doctor back to what looked like a college student's late-night cram session. Dr. Mahone sat down and looked up at him sheepishly. "My coffee?"

Michael handed it to him and watched as he started to fix it with sugar. "You should skip it."

"Oh, I can't drink it black. As convenient as that would be." He pointed to the seat across from him. "Sit with me?"

Michael did. "I meant the coffee."

Dr. Mahone looked at him and back at his work. "I'm trying to fix it."

"The simulation?"

He nodded.

"You need to rest," Michael said. "You're barely awake."

Dr. Mahone smiled and picked up his coffee with trembling fingers. "That's what this is for."

Michael reached across the table and steadied his hand. Dr. Mahone met his eyes for a moment. He gave a nervous laugh and set down the coffee. Michael let go of him.

"I suppose you're right," the doctor admitted. He glanced at his notes one last time, looking half-sick, and packed the composition books in his messenger bag. Standing, he said, "It was nice seeing you again."

Michael nodded. He couldn't help feeling like he'd brought this on him. Dr. Mahone started to go but turned around suddenly.

"Want my coffee?"

Michael's lips parted.

"Since I won't be drinking it."

Michael smiled slightly and took it. "Doctor?"

"Mm?"

"Why don't I drive you home?"

Dr. Mahone shook his head. "That won't be—That won't be necessary." He held his head as if he'd brought on an ache.

Michael stood and took out his keys. "Come on."

Dr. Mahone hung his head and followed Michael to his car. They got in and Michael started the engine. "Seatbelt."

"Right." The doctor clicked it into place and let himself lean against the headrest.

Michael pulled out of the parking lot. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Not counting a few hours here and there… Four days."

Since Michael had stormed out of the Cloud Nine facility. He glanced at Dr. Mahone, his eyes now closed. “Where do you live?” he asked.

“River Rise.”

Nearby Michael’s loft. He drove in that direction for a few minutes before asking for more instructions. Dr. Mahone let out a snore.

Michael looked at him and breathed out a laugh. He was out cold. Michael kept driving and woke him when he’d found a spot in the parking garage, the slam of his car door jolting him awake. Michael opened the passenger door for him.

“Where are we?” Dr. Mahone asked groggily.

“My apartment. You can have the couch.”

Dr. Mahone rubbed his eyes and grabbed his messenger bag before following Michael across the street. “That’s very nice of you.”

Michael smiled slightly and wordlessly led him through the apartment building and to the elevator up to his loft. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.”

Michael unlocked the door and gestured to the couch. Dr. Mahone didn’t bother to check out the place, instead just dropping his bag on the floor and laying down on the cushions. Michael dimmed the lights for him and went to his desk, the blueprints from earlier laid out for him to examine. He laid tracing paper on top of them, using a red pen to make X’s over any flaws he detected. After triple-checking his work, he moved on to the next set of blueprints.

“Are you afraid of me?” Dr. Mahone asked.

Michael jumped, having thought he was asleep already. “What?”

Dr. Mahone shifted so he could see Michael. “Are you afraid of me? Is that why I was in your simulation?”

Michael swallowed, his throat dry. “I don’t think that was the reason.”

“Oh,” the doctor said softly. He relaxed and laid his head on the arm rest again, fluffing a pillow beneath him. " _Oh_."

A faint blush rose in Michael's cheeks. "That's not why I brought you here."

"Of course," Dr. Mahone said matter-of-factly, "Why would you want me? After I—" His voice broke. 

Michael turned off the lights above his desk and went to sit on the coffee table across from the couch. Dr. Mahone had a hand over his mouth, eyes shining.

"Doctor," Michael murmured, "What do you think happened in that simulation?"

Dr. Mahone closed his eyes and shook his head. "To have put you through that… Breaks every single vow I took as a physician. I can't imagine the trauma. The distrust you must have of me."

Michael slid to his knees and knelt by the couch as he took his hand. "You didn't—the version of you in that simulation—didn't rape me, if that's what you thought."

Dr. Mahone let out a breath and looked at him. "I didn't?"

"No. Maybe, if it had gone on longer, but you just—" Michael laughed. "Seems silly to say now."

"What?" Dr. Mahone asked, completely serious.

Michael gestured to the bandage on his neck. "You bit me. And it hurt."

Dr. Mahone frowned slightly. "I should remove pain reception."

Michael looked at his hand, clenched beneath his own. "It makes it realistic. It's just the context that matters."

Dr. Mahone nodded, murmuring, “You’re right.”

"How do you manage that, anyway? The sensations."

"Your memories, mostly," he replied, smiling a little. "The checklist you did for me let me know what sensations you'd already experienced."

"What about my lovely evening with the vampire?"

"Ever bit by a dog?"

Michael thought back to the stray he'd found in middle school. "Yes."

"That, amplified."

Michael raised his brows, impressed. "What else did you account for?"

"A little bit of everything, since I wasn't sure what you would go for. Werewolves, aliens, fish people—"

"Aliens?"

"You said you liked Star Wars."

Michael smiled. "Jedi, too?"

Dr. Mahone propped himself up. "You mean someone who could use the Force?"

Michael nodded, giddy at the thought.

"Depends on what you want. Can you be more specific?"

"Um…" Michael's gaze fell to his feet. "If I wanted someone to hold me down?"

"Done."

Michael put a hand around his throat and raised his brows.

"Easy."

"If I wanted to use the Force?"

"Now for that, I might have to do some tweaking. What would that feel like?"

Michael laughed a little. "When you push two magnets together—"

Dr. Mahone pointed at him. "—and they resist each other. You might be on to something there."

Michael sat on the edge of the couch. "And the werewolves? What do they look like?"

"Whatever you want them to. Men, women, more animal, just hairy, anything."

"And… down there?" Michael asked.

Dr. Mahone laughed. "That's up to you. Unless we're talking in the realm of sensations you've never felt before."

Michael warmed. "And the fish people?"

"Have you ever thought about tentacles?"

Michael covered his face. "You're reading me like a book."

Dr. Mahone smiled. "Lucky guess. You're not the only one."

Michael lowered his hands and mouthed, "You?"

Dr. Mahone let out a single laugh. "I meant my other patients."

"Oh." He couldn't shake his blush.

"I'm not laughing at you, Michael. I'd just prefer not to get ravished by tentacles in my fantasies."

Michael looked him over. "What  _do_  you fantasize about?"

Dr. Mahone ran a hand through his hair. "I want someone who makes me think in ways I haven't before. Someone inspiring. Someone I can talk to all night." He smiled. "I suppose I'm very vanilla in comparison."

Michael shook his head. "I think those are admirable things to look for in a partner. I wasn't always so weird, you know."

"Not weird," the doctor corrected, "Creative."

Michael laughed. "Sex with real people leaves me disappointed because—" he shook a hand near his head. "I did a lot of reading to make up for it."

"Reading, huh? Not watching porn?"

"Doesn't do it for me. It's the same thing over and over."

"Not an unfair assessment," Dr. Mahone said.

Michael clasped his hands together. "With fiction, there's just so much out there—my interests expanded quickly."

"Can you show me what you've read?"

Michael cleared his throat. "Uh, I don't know…"

"Your favorite piece."

"Why?" Michael asked.

Dr. Mahone shrugged. "I'm curious."

Michael narrowed his eyes.

"Alright. I want you to come back and try another simulation."

"Aren't there plenty of other horny people willing to be your guinea pigs?"

Dr. Mahone grimaced. "I want you because your brain responds to the computer in unique ways."

"Is that so?"

"Come in and I'll show you what I see when you're dreaming. It's amazing."

Michael softened, realizing he was genuine. "I'll think about it. But you have to fix it. I don't want to get eaten alive or choked to death because of some crossed wires."

Dr. Mahone furrowed his brows. "Crossed wires…"

"Fear and arousal, you said."

"No, I know, I just started thinking…" Dr. Mahone sat up and opened his bag, slamming one of his notebooks on the coffee table and flipping through the pages. He stopped on an image of the brain and pointed to a small part of it.

"This is your amygdala," he said.

"Yes?" Michael asked.

"It holds your fight or flight response. It's also home to your inhibition." He flicked through more pages and stopped on a jagged looking graph.

"The amygdala is, you could say, activated and deactivated, on and off and on and off during sex, allowing your body to lose control and feel pleasure. Like a light switch. Or a faulty wire."

Michael saw the connection he'd made. "If you could hire an electrician—"

Dr. Mahone tapped Michael's temple, a huge grin on his face. "A simple adjustment to your electrodes should suffice. I suspect that your inhibition never waned."

"I was stuck in the ON position."

The doctor laughed. "Yes. Thank you, Michael. Couldn't have done it without you."

Michael felt a smile creep up on him. He stood and said, "I should get some work done before it gets too late."

Dr. Mahone turned to his composition books, saying, "Of course. I'll do the same."

Michael put a hand on his shoulder and pushed slightly. "Let's put your work away so you can sleep."

Dr. Mahone flashed him a smirk like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Patient's orders?"

"Mhm. You let me know if you change your mind about dinner."

"I will, thank you."

Michael squeezed his shoulder. "I'll get you a blanket." He went to his linen closet and picked a nice large one for him, handing it to him before going back to his work table and finishing his edits. He glanced at the clock around 10 and turned out the lights again. He tiptoed around the couch to check on his doctor.

Sleeping soundly. The blanket had slipped down his arm.

Michael gripped the blanket and pulled it up to his shoulder. Dr. Mahone made a soft contented sound.

Michael left and turned on the bathroom light for him, but had a feeling Dr. Mahone was going to sleep straight through the night. 


End file.
